Consequences of curiosity
by dreaming procrastinator
Summary: After a lecture on War of Wrath, where a story of neglect and incopetency was metioned, a young Vanyarin elf decides to make a research of her own. She soon discovers an old tale of half-truths and grudges and she herself becomes a character in another dramatic story. OCs, with cameos by cannon characters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Lecture

Mírimë sighed as she slowly woke up from a lovely dream in which she took a walk trough a lush valley with huge waterfall, and afterwards indulged in spying on a group of shirtless elven warriors practicing with swords. She chuckled as she thought about the lecture on a proper Vanyarin lady's behaviour, which her dreams would surely earn her, should they be publicaly known. That thought quickly brought to mind something else:

„Master Calimórë invited some noble to hold a lecture on the War of Wrath and..." Mirimë yawned, noticed the time, started, and exlaimed: „... and I'm late!"

She quickly dressed, grabbed her satchel with writing implements, dashed out of her parents's house and ran at breakneck speed trough streets of Valmar, all the time thinking:

„This is my second late arrival in twelve days, and on a day where there is a guest invited. Master Calimóre will not be happy and I imagine the noble will be even more upset. Just my luck."

Mírimë had not arrived at school _very_ late, but her arrival managed to interrupt Master Calimórë in the middle of his introduction of the guest, who gave our tardy student an unpleasant look. Some of Mírimë's fellow students smirked at her and the Master frowned.

„I apologize for being late, sir," offered Mírimë.

Her teacher just nodded and resumed his speech. Mírimë sat down in the last row of seats. Her first thought was that today will probably have consequences in the form of an essay on some very boring topic. Her second thought was that she should have just remained at home and excuse her absence from the lecture by saying that her father suffered a minor poisononing when a mixture which was meant to turn into fast-drying ink released choking fume, and the poor elf required her help. This whole lecture would in all probability once again glorify Vanyarin soldiers, villify the Noldor and degrade capabilities of the Moriquendi, just as written records do.

Mixing of various inks and testing various new writing implements made by her father would be much more interesting. Mírime supressed a yawn and tried to concentrate on the lecture, in case it should be the chosen topic for her essay.

„ … but don't think that those of us who fought in the War of Wrath have a bad opinion about our kin in the Middle Earth just because they are Moriquendi, or that we ascribe characteristics typical for followers of Fëanáro to all Noldorin exiles. No, young ones. We have a legitimate reason for our thoughts of them."

Mírimë was now completely awake and alert. Master Calimórë was also interested in the talk, instead of pretending to be so. There may be some new information after all. Meanwhile, the Vanyarin noble, Lord Horëamo, continued with the lecture.

„I was myself a witness to incompetence, partiality and abominable behaviour of those in charge of the exiles' and Moriquendi troops. One incident, or should I say tragedy comes to my mind in particular. You see, Morgoth's minions had many camps and small strongholds dispersed throughout the region of Beleriand, and these had to be dealt with. One day a company of Vanyarin soldiers and another, consisting of both Moriquendi and the exiles, and led by a Noldo, encountered one of those places.

The Vanyarin commander was of the opinion that the orc lair should be destroyed as soon as possible. He was also convinced that should his and the Noldo's company join forces, they could do away with the foul place quickly and with minimal loss to their side. The Noldorin commander -named Erdanon- remember the name, such a person should not remain anonymous, brushed this matter aside as nonsense. Furthermore, his second-in-command and the company's healer were caught while trying to convince our commander's right hand, Mairacallo, and several others to disobey, should they be ordered to attack."

Mírimë glimpsed a quick succession of expressions on her tutor's face. Master Calimórë first nodded in agreement with Lord Horëamo's words, then looked thoughtful, as if trying to refresh some old memory. This expression was followed by a frown similar to the one he used when he tried to make a student admit the real reason for badly done or non-existent homework. Then he leaned slightly forward in his seat and looked more attentive than before.

"Perhaps he has heard a different account of this matter," Mírimë thought and returned her focus to Lord Horëamo's talk.

„... as I said, commander Erdanon dissmissed the problem of the orc stronghold and the plans to destroy it as nonsense and it proved to be a grievous mistake. At night, scouts reported incresed activity of the orcs. This activity was in fact a preparation for fight. Our kinsman deemed it wise to vanquish the orcs immediately and led an attack on the stronghold. Unfortunately, he was knocked unconscious and his second had to take over. We will never know whether he panicked or let himself be influenced by Erdanon's people. All we know is that due to his orders and due to Erdanon's unwillingness to cooperate, a fight that should end in swift victory for elves turned into a blood bath."

"He has definitely heard a different story about this fight," went trough Mírimë's head as she glanced at her tutor, who was beginning to look quite angry. The noble lecturer seemed oblivious to Calimórë's expression and carried on.

"Dear students, you maybe think that we are now at the end of this terrible story. Sadly, you are mistaken. It had equally terrible continuation. Erdanon eventually changed his mind and arrived at the scene of battle, but his soldiers had done too little too late. His healer then made a point of treating his own comrades first, even though some of the Vanyar were more seriously injured, and the commander of the unfortunate company, who had meanwhile come out of his unconsciousness and was understandably worried for his men, was abused both verbally and physically by said healer and even by Erdanon's second-in-command. So you see, we have ample reasons to think ill of both Moriquendi and the exiles."

Horëamo went on and on about other things, but Mírimë did not pay much attention. Two things confused her: Calimórë's anger at hearing an account of a fight differing from the one he himself had heard, and the reason why soldier from Mairacallo's company needed to be treated by a Moriguendi healer. They had their own healer with them, hadn't they?

The lecture, which was apart from the tale of incompetency indeed quite boring, eventually ended and Mírimë went to the tutor's desk to discuss her late arrival.

"I think we should apply the rule 'three times is enough'," Master Calimórë smiled. "You are going home without extra homework. But before you go, I have noticed that you paid some attention when Lord Horëamo talked about the orc-stronghold incident..."

"You are right, sir."

"I will give you a piece of advice then. If you want to know more about the time of the War of Wrath or if you want to find some mention of Lord Horëamo's story, you should look at the translations of chronicles written by Middle-Earth historians, or better still, try to learn to read Sindarin and make a trip to the library at Avallónë to see the originals. The historians who wrote them had quite sharp tongues, or should I say quills, but I have heard some of those who fought in the war praise their works' accuracy."

"Thank you for the advice, sir. I'll remember it."

"I'm glad to hear that. Remember also that late arrivals should not be a regular occurrence. Good day, Mírimë."

„Good day, sir."

Mírimë then went to other classes and put the morning's lecture out of her mind. Master Calimórë had not done so. When he thought about Horëamo's talk, he got angry again. The noble was lucky that his head did not suffer a collision with a heavy flying object. Calimórë would have to talk about today's lecture with Erdanon. Such an account of that long ago fight couldn't be allowed to circulate among people even though the fight happened about six thousand years ago. It cast a very unflattering light on people close to the history teacher's heart and Calimórë would rather spend eternity in Mandos than just sit and do nothing about it.

"You have a serious problem, Horëamo," thought the teacher and gave a very unpleasant smile. "Very serious problem indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Beginnings of problems

After her last lesson of the day Mírimë again turned her thoughts to the morning's lecture. She supposed Horëamo wanted the students to quickly form a decided opinion. Indeed, his story contained enough mentions of incompetency and bad behavior to clearly indicate who was the villain of the day and who was the hero. Or perhaps the victim. But she had her doubts. It seemed unbelievable to her that any sane elf would make light of a dangerous situation, or just leave his allies in such a situation to be slaughtered. If such behavior was normal amongst the exiles and the Moriquendi, there wouldn't be much left for the host of the Valar to save, wouldn't it?

While Mírimë pondered this, she failed to notice a silver-haired _n__í__s_ and inevitably collided with her.

"I'm so sorry," the Vanya exclaimed.

The other female started to say something in Sindarin, then stopped and said in Quenya:

„It's alright, nothing happened," smiled and continued on her way.

"Was that a Sinda wandering miles away from any deep forest? Anyway, it is probably not important," Mírimë thought a continued her brooding about Horëamo's tale.

_If _events occurred as the noble said, she would expect to come across at least one history book which ripped Mairacallo to small pieces. And the remaining three elves, Erdanon and his two followers, should be right in the next paragraph, labeled slayers of kin by inaction or too late action. But it was not so. Why?

There was also no mention of a Vanyarin healer saving those who seemed on their way to Mandos' halls, or a mention of a Vanyarin healer ending up as a victim of incompetency. A possibility of either commander misunderstanding the other was allowed neither. Mírimë imagined a military campaign was a very stressful business, during which such things can easily happen.

"I should stop my musings before I get a headache and behave unpleasantly to my parents' dinner guest as a result."

Anyone will agree that Mírimë's last thought was a sensible one. But as we all know, there is often a difference between what we do and what we _should_ do. Such was the case with the young Vanya. Due to her thoughts about war long since past she was unusually quiet and her father, Aranon, couldn't help but notice.

"You look very thoughtful, Miri. Has master Calimórë given you difficult extra homework for your late arrivals?" Aranon asked.

"What? Oh. No, he didn't. But I _was_ thinking about history. You see, Master Calimórë invited some noble named Horëamo to tell us about the War of Wrath and-"

"And he maligned Mairacallo, Erdanon, Elrond and perhaps some other commander of the Middle-Earth elves? And was there a story where a Vanyarin company was slaughtered and Erdanon just stood there and done nothing?" growled Avacauro, their guest and Aranon's long-time friend.

"Yes, there was such a story. Do you know some details about it?"

"Yes, I do. But there is much to say concerning that tragedy and the people involved, so I think it will be best if you came to my studio day after tomorrow, if your parents don't object."

"Not in the slightest," Aranon smiled. "Miri can also bring you those paints you ordered. The parcel should arrive from Tirion tomorrow. What do you think, Miri?"

"I will be glad to come and of course I will bring the paints," Mírimë agreed.

The conversation was followed by a moment of silence where all at the table savored their wine and the meal that Mírimë's mother Failindië had prepared. Avacauro leaned back in his chair and started to compliment the hostess, when a feminine shriek was heard from the street outside. All four elves stood and rushed out of the house to see what was happening.

Two _n__éri_ were restraining a silver-haired _nís _who was struggling to free herself and a third _nér_ was clutching a piece of white fabric in one hand while the other hand was pulling up the woman's skirt.

"Stop it at once!" Avacauro shouted and both he and Aranon advanced at the three elves. By now other people started to come out or look out of their windows. The trio dropped their captive on the ground and run away.

"At least we have a souvenir," shouted the one with the white cloth, waved it in the air and disappeared.

Both Mírimë's father and his friend were ready to follow them, but Failindië stopped them.

"Leave them. We had better help this poor thing, she is in shock. Aranon, help her inside. Avacauro, go to the kitchen and get a glass of wine. Miri, you go find... Miri! Are you listening?"

"Yes. What do you want me to find?"

"Find a clean dress and a blanket for our guest."

Mírimë nodded and followed her mother inside to do as she was asked. She was herself in a state of shock and disbelief. Assaults such as these didn't happen this side of the Sea. They occurred in the Middle-Earth, where they were committed by orcs and Men. No elf would even think to behave like this. Mírimë desperately wished to believe that all elves in Valmar had respect for each other and were above assaulting another just for fun, but after tonight such belief was impossible, because assault of another for fun was what she witnessed a while ago.

Footsteps were heard on the stairs and in the hall. Door opened and closed, shaking Mírimë from her stupor. She collected the clean dress and a blanket and headed for the guest-room where her mother could be heard as she tried to sooth their unexpected guest. When she stepped inside and looked at the face of the woman properly, she started. It was the Sinda she collided with earlier that day. Upon hearing her arrive, Failindië turned.

"You have the dress and the blanket? Good. You look as terrible as Avacauro. Go and have a glass of wine, I think I'll join you later."

Mírime thought her mother had made a sensible suggestion and went off. In the kitchen she found both her father and her friend. Avacauro was holding his own glass of wine and her father was deep in thought. Neither spoke as she joined them and they sat in silence for some time. When Failindië came down, Mírimë broke the silence.

"One of those who were restraining her takes history classes with me. And I bumped into the woman earlier today."

The other three were quiet for a while, then Avacauro reacted:

"I have noticed that the one who was pulling her skirt wore Lord Horëamo's livery. And I also recognize the woman, for I have painted a portrait of her some years ago when she was in Valmar with Lady Amarië visiting the latter's relatives. When this becomes public, those three attackers and Horëamo will have to deal with angry king Ingwë, even angrier king Arafinwë and enraged mob of the Sindar and some of the returned exiles. They are lucky her husband still stays in the Middle-Earth. Aranon, Failindië, Mírimë, you have in your guest-room Lady Celebrían, granddaughter of king Arafinwë."


	3. Chapter 3

**amebane, thank you for your kind comment and I hope you wil enjoy this chapter.**

**Kondoru, I agree with your comment. **

Chapter 3

Mírimë sighed in frustration:

"Once again only a vague mention of the incident. No clear facts about the verbal and physical abuse that Vanyarin commander was subjected to, no punishment for those supposedly guilty is mentioned, and for that matter, I don't even see _names_ of the people involved."

Mírimë closed the history book which had not given her the answers she sought and reached for another, last of the six she borrowed to look trough that day. Somehow all the translated works of Middle-Earth historians were removed to a storage where only librarians were allowed admittance, so she had to be content with books written by Vanyarin historians. This, together with the last night's assault on Lady Celebrían gave the young Vanya an unpleasant feeling, which nonetheless failed to discourage her from searching for information. In fact, it made her even more curious than she was before.

"I suppose I'm lucky Avacauro is willing to talk about that fight," she thought and tiredly opened the last book before her. As expected, it also did not contain the information she sought. Outside a bell chimed, signaling the end of lunch break and Mírimë set out for another history class with Master Calimórë. On her way she was accosted by a group of five of her classmates, led by the one who participated in the assault the day before. The leader stood directly before her and his comrades blocked the way back.

"Hello, ink seller," he smirked. "I have a piece of advice for you. Should you in any way imply that I have had something to do with the disturbance yesterday evening, I will just whisper to some gossips that a tradesman named Aranon sells inferior goods for price much higher than what is their real value. And that wouldn't help your dear father's business, would it?"

Mírimë bristled at such a speech and opened her mouth to give the young _n__é__r_ in front of her a piece of her mind. Before she could do it, Master Calimórë's voice rang out:

"Gentlemen! You have a history class to attend, not a classmate-pestering session."

Not wanting to antagonize the teacher, the quintet walked off. Master Calimórë frowned at their backs, then turned to Mírimë, who was still seething.

"That group is dangerously close to crossing a line," he muttered. "Come, we are both almost late."

They set off for the classroom. After arriving there, Mírimë chose a seat among a group of her friends and tried to put the incident in the corridor out of her mind. Master Calimórë began talking.

"The next lesson will be canceled, as I plan to be out of Valmar on personal business."

All heads shot up, a few happy grins appeared and some of the students started to whisper excitedly. The teacher raised his hand to silence them.

"However, that doesn't mean you won't have any work to do. We are about to start talking about events of second age in the Middle-Earth. There are twenty students in this class, so I will divide you into four groups of five. Each group will be given a topic on which they will find information and present what they have found after I'm back. The schedule should appear at the noticeboard outside this classroom by the time you return from your next class today."

All heads bowed and a few groans could be heard. Master Calimórë ignored them and started the day's lesson.

* * *

After her return home Mírimë found a royal messenger sitting with her parents. He nodded a greeting and turned to her father.

"Your daughter I assume?"

When Aranon confirmed the assumption, the messenger spoke:

"Lady, as I have already told your parents, your family's presence is required by king Ingwë regarding the attack on his distant relation. Are you ready to go?"

"Let me just put away my things," Mírimë managed to croak and ran to her room. She quickly tossed her satchel on the bed and hurried back. The group set off for the king's palace and her first thought was that this was a beginning of an affair she'd rather not have to participate in. Her second thought, which almost caused her to stumble, was that king Ingwë or some high ranking elf in his service will want to hear every detail of yesterday's incident. She knew the identity of one of the attackers. If she disclosed it today, would her classmate fulfill his threat?

Her thoughts were interrupted when they arrived. They were led to an audience room where a group of nobles was already assembled. There was king Ingwë, Lady Indis, Lady Amarië and her husband, prince Findaráto, son of king Arafinwë.

"My king, here is Aranon, his wife Failindië and his daughter Mírimë, as you requested."

The king nodded in acknowledgement and dismissed the messenger. As the elf departed, another messenger arrived, followed by Avacauro. Greeting were exchanged, the visitors were invited to sit down and questioning started. The main inquirer was prince Findaráto.

„I will start with Master Avacauro. How did you come to be nearby when the attack on my niece occurred?"

"I was having dinner with my friend Aranon's family. We were sitting at the table when we heard a shriek from the street outside. The assault happened practically in front of Aranon's door," Avacauro answered.

Findaráto turned to the other three people summoned.

"Is that an accurate account?"

All three answered in affirmative. The prince looked back to Avacauro.

"Did you recognize some of the attackers?"

"No, I did not. I have only noticed that one of them was dressed in lord Horëamo's colors."

"What exactly was their behavior towards my niece?"

"Two were griping her by her arms and the third one, who was wearing the livery, was pulling up her skirt."

Findaráto's eyes flashed in anger. He continued with his inquiries.

"What did you do when you found out what was happening?"

"I shouted at them to stop and strode towards them. Other people were appearing in the street, so the trio let her go and ran off. I have then followed Failindië's instructions."

The prince turned towards Mírimë's mother.

"What were the instructions? And do you want to add something to Master Avacauro's answers?"

"I asked Aranon to help the lady to the house, sent Avacauro to bring her a glass of strong wine as the poor thing was shaking and I have told my daughter to find a clean dress as the lady's was dusty and torn at left shoulder," Failindië said quickly and nervously. "Oh, and Miri said she knew one of the _n__é__ri_ from school."

When prince Findaráto looked at Mírimë, she hesitated.

"Is your mother's memory correct?"

Still no answer.

"Why do you feel you should conceal the attacker's identity, Mírimë?" Findaráto asked and looked deep into her eyes. For a moment she returned his stare and then blurted out:

"He said if I told anyone, he would harm my father's business."

"How did he think to do that?"

"He said he would let a rumor circulate that my father is dishonest and sells overpriced goods of inferior quality."

"I see. Tell me, young one, do you think anyone in this room will run to that _n__ér_ to inform him you have disclosed his name as soon as the door is closed behind you?"

When Mírimë thought about the prince's words, the scenario indeed seemed ridiculous.

"No sir, I don't think so."

"Well then, who was the attacker you recognized?"

"It was Finiorë, son of Failaquen."

Here king Ingwë adressed prince Findaráto:

„Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm quite sure that Horëamo's grandson had brought with him a friend named Finiorë to the hunt some months ago. I remember the youngster behaving with appalling arrogance and nearly harming one of my men."

"You are right. I remember the same."

"Then, I will have Horëamo come here for a very long talk about managing both his family and his servants."

Some more questions were asked and Aranon's family and friend were allowed to return home. When Mírimë prepared for bed that day, she had a disturbing and hopefully mistaken thought. What if the commander from Lord Horëamo's story was somehow connected to him also?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in posting, real life interfered. :-)**

Chapter 4: Avacauro remembers

The next day Mírimë awoke excited and curious. She had no classes that day and Avacauro promised to tell her what he knew about Erdanon's and Mairacallo's story. In her excitement she forgot the parcel with Avacauro's paints at home. When she returned and went into her father's shop to get it, one of his customers had already arrived and regaled Aranon with talk about last night's dramatic events which occurred in one of the city inn's common room.

"... it looked like the beginning of a merry night, I have recited several of my poems for which I got a goblet of good wine, guests asked for more, but then royal guards stormed in and went straight for a group of young bucks drinking and laughing at a corner table. One of the guards asked them about something, or more likely, asked for someone. Those youngsters didn't hurry to answer. I would say they were after a long time reminded that every action has it's consequences, they realized they had done something they shouldn't and got scared.

Oh, good morning, lovely lady," the _nér_ interrupted his story.

"What is it you need, Miri," Aranon asked.

"I forgot to take the paints to Avacauro," Mírimë answered.

"I suppose they were forgotten due to excitement and anticipation?" her father smiled and pulled the parcel from under the counter. "Here you are. Be careful with it, or you will incur Avacauro's eternal wrath."

Mírimë chuckled and thanked her father. When she was leaving, she heard the customer talk again:

"One of them was being cocky, but they would have none of it and gave him a talk, threatening him to..."

Rest of the sentence was cut off by closing of the shop's door. Mírimë wondered if said group of youngsters contained Finiorë. She wished it were so, but in the end she came to the conclusion that it was unlikely even for the king's people to find him so quickly. He was not a noble with his own residence and well known face, merely a friend of a grandson of one. No, this incident with the guards was probably connected to another problem.

When she arrived at Avacauro's studio, the painter was busy doing some preparatory sketches.

"Hello, Mírimë. Come in and make yourself comfortable," he welcomed her and took the parcel from her. "Sit, I will bring some apple juice to drink and we will begin."

Avacauro went to fetch said drink and Mírimë sneaked a look at his sketches. They showed two _n__é__ri_, one with light hair and one dark-haired. The light one was obviously wounded or ill, lying on a cot, while the dark one supported his head with one hand and held a cup to his lips with the other.

She looked closer to see details and noticed that the dark _nér_ had shadows under his eyes, matted hair and blood-stained clothing.

When Avacauro returned with the juice, he found her still studying the sketch. Mírimë turned to him with questioning look on her face.

"That was nearly every day's occurrence during the War of Wrath. It could also be seen after the fight mentioned by Lord Horëamo. The dark-haired _nér_ is healer who belonged to Erdanon's company. The other is a wounded Vanyarin soldier. That memory has become quite vivid these last days."

"How did you get to see this? Did you belong to Mairacallo's company?"

"No, I belonged to another troop. My commander sent me with a message to Mairacallo and his superior. It was a coincidence that I saw so much of that tragedy and its aftermath. I have often wondered how it came to pass. In my opinion Erdanon was not so indifferent and cavalier, and his Vanyarin counterpart was not so innocent as Horëamo says. I believe there is a possibility that his attitude to Middle-Earth elves played a major role."

"His attitude?" Mírimë asked, slightly confused.

Avacauro gave her a sad smile. "You see, Miri, when the army was being assembled and trained, it's members had differing understanding of why they were going to fight with Morgoth's servants. Some thought that should Morgoth win over the elves of Middle-Earth, he would then try to come and harm the elves of Valinor. After all, he tried it before. Then there was a second group, mainly the remaining Noldor and those of the Vanyar who remembered the Great journey. These had friends or relatives who were in peril and wanted to help them.

The third group and also the most numerous one, were those with the belief that every elf has a right to live a life in peace without the necessity to be constantly on their guard against evil creatures. That was not reality for their kin overseas and they wanted to rectify it. The last group, and luckily a very minor one, consisted of those who thought that Middle-Earth elves were just incapable of protecting their land and needed to be shown how to do it properly." Avacauro explained.

"Which group did you belong to?"

"The first one. Before Ëarendil and Elwing arrived and related exactly how bad the situation overseas is, I never gave much thought to it. When I finally did so, I got scared. I suppose Master Calimórë's vivid descriptions of fell creatures they met during the Great journey had done their part also," smiled the painter.

His listener's eyes widened. "He is so old?" she burst out.

"Yes, he remembers the Journey and he taught me history more than six thousand years ago," said Avacauro, amused by her outburst. "And I know he has friends or acquaintances among the Exiles and the Sindar, I have met him at some of their festivals I attended, he always had company.

"Do you think he could have met a former member of Erdanon's company that way?"

"It is possible."

Both got quiet and focused on their own thoughts. Outside a group of elves arrived at the house opposite Avacauro's. One of them, a _nér _wrapped in a white cloak and with a hood over his head, was gazing at his surroundings in wonder and perhaps apprehension. Avacauro noticed and commented on it.

"It seems that another elf has returned home from Námo's halls."

Mírimë turned to look in the same direction as her host. "One of those fallen in the War of Wrath?"

"Most likely. Which reminds me I should continue my narrative. You now know that there was a small group of Vanyarin warriors with potentially disastrous attitude. I will move on to where I originally wanted to begin. As I already said, I was sent as a messenger. On my way to deliver the message entrusted to me, I came across Erdanon's troop heading in the opposite direction. Both Erdanon and his second-in-command, Erestor, urged me to be as careful as I could, because I was traveling in the direction of an orcish keep and night was falling - a time when the orcs are at their most dangerous. They also told me I should find whom I seek easily, if I just trace back their steps. According to them the other troop should be following them."

"But that sounds..."

"Very different from what Horëamo said? As if Erdanon and Mairacallo's superior agreed on a course of action and the latter did not keep it?"

"Yes. Please, continue."

"As you wish. I did as the Noldor advised me, but I found only a site where the troops might have stopped for a while, and a track leading in the direction opposite to one which I came from. I followed that track and found whom I sought. Mairacallo was urgently talking to his superior, but apparently his words were falling on deaf ears. When the commander stormed away, I tried to follow him, but Mairacallo noticed and stopped me."

"Did you manage to deliver the message?" Mírimë enquired.

"Yes, Mairacallo took it. I was ordered to turn back, find Erdanon and tell him what his Vanyarin counterpart was doing – and that there was no stopping him. I set off. When I found the Noldor, it was obvious they'd had an encounter with a pack of orcs. Some were piling slain orcs to be burned, others were assisting their comrades with minor wounds and their healer was busy tending to those more seriously injured. When I relayed what Mairacallo wanted me to relay, Erdanon immediately sent one of his uninjured men off with a note. As I have learned later, the note was meant for Gil-Galad, informing him about the situation. Only then I fully realized something tragic could occur."

Avacauro was once again lost in thought and Mírimë did not urge him to continue. She also had something to think about, namely the impression that Horëamo's tale seemed more and more like a half-truth if not a lie, and a possible reason why he told the story the way he did and why now.

Their contemplation was interrupted by one of Avacauro's neighbours rushing in the studio.

"Have you heard the news? The guards arrested Lord Horëamo's grandson and his servant and now they are to be judged for assault on Lady Celebrían!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Avacauro continues to remember

Avacauro had some questions for his neighbour.

"Do you know if there was someone else arrested?" he asked the _ní__s._

"No, I have heard only about Horëamo's grandson and his servant. Anyway, I must go, I have some work to finish."

The visitor scurried off and Avacauro remarked: "Yes, work to finish and gossip to spread afterwards. And she is not the only one who will talk. Horëamo will soon have a scandal to handle."

"Do you think Finiorë has run away from Valmar?" asked Mírimë.

"I don't know. Why do you think so?"

"Well, he is no genius, but he is not _completely_ stupid either. Until now he was mostly insulting people and purposely caused inconveniences. With the attack he stepped over a line and he will realize it, maybe he already realized it if the news about his noble friend's predicament got to him. And I don't see him confessing and bearing responsibility, after all he threatened me in order to keep me quiet, so there are really two possibilities: either he would stay and scream he is innocent when they come for him, or he will run as fast and as far as he can."

"You have a point. King Ingwë and prince Findaráto act quickly. If there is no rumor tomorrow about another arrest, I believe you will be proven right. Do you want me to continue talking about the War of Wrath?"

"Yes please."

"Very well. As I said, when Erdanon found out what was his Vanyarin counterpart doing, he immediately sent word to Gil-Galad. Then he proceeded to find an easily defensible place where the injured could be gathered and waited for reply to his message. I went along. Erestor recommended it. He said that I have finished what I was ordered to do, so I should take care of my safety and stay with a larger group of elves until we are out of the orc-infested area.

It wasn't long before Gil-Galad answered Erdanon's note. He sent another troop. Erdanon and this new commander agreed that part of Erdanon's soldiers led by Erestor and his company's healer, young _nér_ named Elrond, would stay with the wounded, and the others would try to get to whom they called 'idiotic Vanya'. I stayed behind also.

For a few days things were strangely calm. No attacks, the injured were slowly recovering, I had time to talk to a few of the Noldor and hear their opinion on everything from dwarvish eating habits to Sindarin nobles. Then the soldiers returned. A lot of them were wounded, a number of them seemed to be serious cases. Elrond and Erestor immediately sprang to action before chaos could arise. As I have seen before, soldiers helped each other with minor injuries and Elrond tended to serious cases. But this time, there were some injured so seriously that he couldn't help them. Erdanon was among them."

Avacauro paused and took a drink from his glass. Mírimë used this time to think about his words.

"Avacauro, can I have a question?"

"Of course."

"At the lecture, Horëamo said that according to the Vanyarin commander the healer first took care of the Noldor, even when there were some more seriously wounded Vanyar. Could it be that it is a twisted version of what really happened?"

"Yes, it could be. I remember a conflict between Elrond and the commander. Elrond was very busy and in all probability stressed and Verion, the commander of the unfortunate troop, was pestering him about something. He got a sharp reply, most likely it was something along the lines of 'Let me do my job and don't be in the way'. When Verion ignored it, Elrond signaled to Erestor he needed some help. Erestor understood what was the problem and dragged Verion away. The Vanya resisted, squirmed and screamed. I caught words 'lousy' and 'idiotic', Erestor heard even more. Remember, he thought Verion's actions were foolish, the attempt to lessen their consequences had cost Erdanon's life and now he was insulting Elrond and complicating his work when the healer was trying to save as many lives as he was able. It was too much for Erestor and he punched Verion to silence him."

"Verbal and physical abuse by the healer and Erdanon's second in command," said Mírimë to herself. Avacauro heard her and grumbled:

"The Noldor and some of the Vanyarin soldiers would say it was deserved. I would say so, too."

"What happened next?"

"Both Gil-Galad and Ingwë wanted to know who was responsible and sent someone to investigate. For the Vanyar, it was Horëamo, for the Noldor came Celebrimbor. As you know, the latter was a descendant of Fëanáro, and that bloodline is not known for patience. Horëamo is not a peaceful person either. They had a massive argument. Celebrimbor accused Horëamo that he had not investigated the matter properly and had given too little consideration to Elrond's and Erestor's testimony. In short, Horëamo claimed that Erdanon had the greatest share of responsibility, followed by Mairacallo, who had no respect for his superior. Celebrimbor claimed that Verion is to blame. Then, Horëamo tried to accuse Elrond of incompetency and Erestor of inappropriate behavior, which earned him quite a lot of anger and he reconsidered it. After all this, he collected all living Vanyar present, me included and headed away. That is, I think, the end of my story."

"It seems that Horëamo really told half-truths," Mírimë said. "But I don't understand why he returned to this matter now, after so long a time."

"Neither do I. I'd wager it was not a particularly noble reason."

Mírimë checked the time and after finding out how late it was, she took her leave and headed home. Whenever she passed a group of elves talking, she caught words like 'scandal', 'arrest' or 'unbelievable'. On the street where she lived she saw behind windows of several shops a likeness of Finiorë with words "Wanted for assault" above it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A forthnight passed since the news concerning Horëamo's grandson, his servant, and Mírimë's classmate Finiorë. The latter was still not found. The trial was postponed until he was discovered. If someone doubted the truth of the accusation laid against them or tried to assign some blame to lady Celebrían, their opinion quickly changed when first she was not seen in public and after she _did_ appear, it was in the company of lady Amarië and four guards, which still wasn't enough to make her feel safe and she begged her relative to return to king Ingwë's house.

Mírimë and her group of friends meanwhile started to seek information on the topic they were assigned by Master Calimórë – Eregion, it's rulers and influence of Annatar. The references in books written by Vanyarin historians were brief, they mainly focused on Valinorean politics. The most useful book the students found was written by Master Calimórë himself. When they tried to arrange a loan of some of the books removed into the storage, they were unsuccessful. In the end it was again Avacauro, or should we say Avacauro's collection acquired during his travels around Valinor, that offered the information needed.

With some of the borrowed books safely tucked in her satchel and with her thoughts on what information they should use in their work and what information would be too in-depth, Mírimë walked through the streets of Valmar to one of her friend's house when a call startled her:

"Out of my way!"

She quickly jumped aside and mounted messenger wearing king Olwë's colors trotted around her. She heard some irritated murmurs from similarly startled people around her. However, more commotion was to follow. Several elves were running at top speed trough the street. It seemed that four or five guards, one Vanyarin civilian and another, probably Noldorin elf were chasing a scruffy looking _n__ér. _Mírimë caught a glimpse of the escaping elf's face – it was Finiorë! He was drawing near. When he was close enough, she stuck out her foot. He didn't manage to evade it, took a nasty fall and remained lying on the ground, clutching his right wrist with his left hand, which was badly skinned.

Mírimë didn't care though. She also didn't stay uninjured. Her ankle gave way beneath her and she sat on the curb, hissing in pain and swearing to herself that she will never again try to play a heroine.

The guards secured Finiorë and one of them was talking to the Vanya civilian who ran with them. The Noldo noticed Mírimë's injury, and seeing that the guards had no need of him, approached her.

"Can I help you, miss?"

She hesitated. Meanwhile, his Vanyarin friend finished his conversation with the guard and came near. Mírimë's eyes widened in surprise. It was Master Calimórë. He took a look at the situation and smiled.

"There is nothing to worry about, Mírimë. Erdanon is my long-time friend, but if you are uncomfortable with him helping you, I can do it instead." He then turned to the Noldo: "Will you mind continuing to my home and waiting for me there, Erdanon?"

"Not at all. But before I go, when will the guards want to talk to us again? After all, we caught the youngster on our way to Valmar and brought him here. Although, I must admit, albeit reluctantly, that we should have checked the knots at his wrists more carefully," smiled Erdanon ruefully.

"We are to come to their headquarters tomorrow an hour after noon." said Calimórë and turned back to his student. "Come, Mírimë, I will help you get home. Your injury looks like something your mother will be able to handle."

Erdanon set off in the direction of his friend's home and Calimórë and his student started towards the latter's home. At first, they were silent and Mírimë felt a little awkward, but Calimórë broke the silence with polite inquiries:

"How did your research on Eregion go?"

"My friends and I had some problems at first, but we managed to find some books with useful information."

"Problems? I am surprised. If I remember correctly, in the school library can be found many books on events of second age in Middle-Earth."

"I have only found those on Valinorean history, and the works of Middle-Earth historians were removed to the storage."

"Did you contact a librarian concerning those books?"

"Yes, I wrote a request for a loan of some of the books, but it was rejected. Some of my classmates tried it, too, but with the same result as me."

"And may I ask when were the books removed?"

"Just after Lord Horëamo's lecture."

"I see."

"Master Calimórë?"

"Yes?"

"Your friend said you have captured Finiorë on your way here. How did you manage it?"

"He apparently run out of provisions and tried to steal ours. However, Erdanon awoke during his act, they started to struggle, which in turn had waken me, I gave my friend a hand and the business was finished. Ah, I think this is your street, is it not?"

"Yes, it is. My father's house has a sign of pen and ink on the wall."

Calimórë nodded and they fell silent again. When they arrived at their destination, the front door opened before either of them could reach it and Avacauro and Aranon walked out. When Mírimë's father saw her leaning on her teacher, he took over supporting her and wanted to know what happened. His daughter was reluctant to talk, so Calimórë related the story.

"So, once again my daughter has a part in some commotion-causing event," sighed Aranon.

"Believe me, father, I have learnt a lesson today. I will never again try to interfere in anything. Ow!" hissed Mírimë, when she accidentaly put weight on her injured ankle.

"I will consider the promise kept when your ankle is healed, another uproar arises and you just stand and watch. Come, let us get you to your mother. Master Calimórë, thank you for your help."

"I was glad to be of assistance. Good day," answered the teacher and went his way.

Aranon turned to Avacauro: "Will you come for dinner tomorrow? With Finiorë caught and all the rumors that are sure to start after today there is going to be much to talk about."

"Yes, I will come. But we shouldn't be standing here chatting, Mírimë needs to have her ankle treated. Have a nice day."

"You too," returned Aranon and helped Mírimë get in the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

" … and so the surviving citizens, the remaining defenders of Ost-in-Edhil led by Lord Celeborn, and the army sent from Lindon under the command of Elrond Half-elven, retreated. They came across an easily defensible valley through which river Bruinen ran and there they made their stand against Sauron's forces. After the enemy was defeated with help of both Gil-Galad's and Númenorean army, a permanent refuge was built and to our knowledge it still stands. This was the end of Eregion and the beginning of Imladris," finished one of Mírimë's friends their presentation on Eregion and it's fall.

Their classmates clapped and Master Calimórë smiled.

"Well done, ladies. You've had accurate information which was presented interestingly and confidently. I only have one question for you, I think Mírimë can answer it. Had Sauron tried to enchant any other ruler or noble in any other realm?"

"Yes, sir, he had. It happened at Númenor, where he influenced the king, his advisors and most of the other nobles."

"Correct. He caused the fall of Númenor. Since it is a topic assigned to the four gentlemen from the last row, I will ask them to come forward and the ladies can return to their seats."

Four young _néri_ stood up and made their way to the front of the classroom. In the past they followed Finiorë wherever he went and whatever he did, and since the attack on lady Celebrían and their leader's capture they were unusually subdued.

Their performance was surprisingly good. Mírimë wondered, who or what made them take their task seriously. Was it just removal of Finiorë's influence, firmer control by their parents, or both?

Another interesting thing was how Master Calimórë gained admiration of his students. When the story about his help in catching Finiorë became known, the students started to pay more attention during his lessons and when they realized that the Great Journey from Cuiviénen, which he remembered, was definitely not a leisurely walk, but at times a very perilous undertaking, Master Calimórë became their hero.

Mírimë was disturbed from her musings by the end of the presentation on Númenor and the beginning of another one. Two other topics were discussed and the day's lesson ended. When the students were collecting their things, one of them looked at the street outside and exclaimed:

"There is a procession of king Olwë's elves and some others. Who has dark blue and silver as their colors?"

Master Calimórë went to the window, looked out and answered:

"Dark blue and silver were colors of Gil-Galad's herald, Elrond Half-elven. If my suppositions are correct, and I'm fairly sure they are, then the hurrying Telerin messenger I saw the other day bore a word about arrival of some very important people from Middle-Earth, coincidentally important people close to lady Celebrían, namely her husband and maybe her mother. Yes, I can see princess Artanis riding with Olwë's people and the tall, dark-haired elf wearing a silver circlet is probably Lord Elrond."

"Finiorë had then got into a far worse trouble than he was in," mumbled Mírimë. Calimórë heard her and remarked:

"I agree. In addition to lady Celebrían's furious uncle, there is now her probably enraged husband and also her angry mother."

* * *

When Mírimë got home, she found out that Avacauro arrived not quarter of an hour before her, ready to discuss the new important arrivals. She greeted all three adults and gave her parents a questioning look, asking if she could stay and listen. Her father allowed it and she took a seat. He also started the conversation.

"I have heard quite a lot of confusing things today. One poet insisted that princess Artanis has returned from Middle-Earth and the first thing she did was to threaten those three idiots who attacked her daughter with skinning and disemboweling, then a scribe said that king Olwë sent a company of Telerin elves to drag those three to Alqualondë so he could deal with them himself, another of my customers claimed that king Arafinwë had the same idea and still another said that some Noldo accused Horëamo of slander. Do you think any of it is close to the truth, Avacauro?"

"I'm not sure about the part concerning Olwë and Arafinwë. I think the attackers will be judged here in Valmar, as is planned. As to the rumor about princess Artanis, well, if she has indeed returned and got a word about what happened to her daughter, then I think it is possible she made such a threat. I have heard nothing about Horëamo being accused of slander, but the way he behaves, he is asking for it," answered the painter.

Aranon nodded and turned to his daughter.

"Mírimë, have you heard something about this matter today? You look eager to talk."

"After history class today one of my friends saw some Teleri and some strange elves, maybe Noldor, escorting a lady and an important-looking lord. Master Calimórë said that the lady was princess Artanis and the lord was probably Elrond Half-elven."

Avacauro then expressed a thought similar to the one she shared with Master Calimórë:

"Finiorë and his two friends are in a worse trouble than they thought. From what my friends who came from Middle Earth said, Elrond is very protective towards his family and friends, and quite frightening when angered. Those three _néri_ attempted to hurt his wife. I think there is no need for me to say more."

There was a quiet moment, which was interrupted by Mírimë's mother, Failindië.

"By, the way, Miri, how did your presentation go?"

"It went well, Master Calimórë complimented it. In fact, the bigger part of his comments about all the presentations was positive."

"Even Finiorë's cronies got some praise?" asked Aranon, smiling.

"Yes, even them. In fact, they were quite good."

"Maybe they will turn out well after all," mused Aranon. "By the way, rumor has it that Master Calimórë is your classmates' new hero. Is it true?"

"It is. It started when he and his friend named Erdanon-"

"The person likely to bring an accusation of slander against Horëamo!" interrupted Avacauro and gave an embarassed smile. "Sorry, Mírimë"

"It's alright," the girl smiled.

This was the end of the day's serious conversations. Avacauro returned to his studio and his paintings and Mírimë did some work for school. The rest of the afternoon and evening were spent quietly, without any excitement. Mírimë was ready to end this day as any other, but it was not meant to be and the reason for it were her dreams.

_She stood in the school library, next to a librarian who was shelving some books. Raised voices were heard from the hallway outside. Curious, she neared the library's entrance and looked who was arguing with whom. The two persons fighting were Master Calim__ó__r__ë__ and the head __librarian._

_ "Can you give me one good reason to deny the students access to the best sources of information about history that could be found in this library?"_

_ "Lord Hor__ë__amo-"_

_ "Lord Hor__ë__amo has a right to specify how we should use his gifts of funds, but not to determine what we should teach or deal with matters which should be decided only by the headmaster. Unless he gave you some extra money to augment your pay?"_

_ The librarian didn't answer. Calim__ó__r__ë__ turned on his heel and set off in direction of stairs. The librarian ground his teeth, glared at the teacher's back and watched as he neared the stairs. Then he broke out into a run. M__í__rim__ë__ wanted to scream a warning to her teacher, but no sound came from her throat, no matter how hard she tried. Calim__ó__r__ë__ reacted too late. His attacker pushed him and he fell down the stairs, hitting his head during the fall. He remained lying at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving. The head librarian started, as if he just awoke from trance and looked in disbelief and dismay at the unconscious teacher. Then he sank to his knees and put his head in his hands._

_ At that moment M__í__rim__ë__'s sight began to blur. She could vaguely see the other librarian run out of the door and down the stairs, calling Calim__ó__r__ë__'s name. After that, all sound muffled until it got completely quiet and instead of a school corridor she could see the ceiling of her room._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mírimë laid in her bed and tried to fall asleep after her nightmare. The head librarian's angry face, Calimórë's fall down the stairs, it was all in front of her eyes and she couldn't calm herself, no matter how hard she tried. Hoping that maybe a mug of warm milk would both calm her and help her drift off, Mírimë quietly went down to kitchen to fix herself the drink. As she poured the warm milk into a mug she was startled by someone pounding at the door.

Feeling a little scared, Mírimë moved to the kitchen's window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the person at the front door. She was not so lucky. Their late night's visitor pounded the door again and this time he added a shout:

"Failindië! Get up, you are needed!"

Mírimë sighed in relief when she heard a very familiar voice and moved to open the door. Before she could do it, her father, who had been awoken by the commotion, ran past her to let the visitor in.

"Avacauro, in the name of the Valar, what is going on?" asked Aranon.

"Failindië's help is needed. Two of my neighbors had fallen ill."

Mírimë's mother, at that time also up and awake, called from above the stairs:

"Wait just a moment, I'll get my things."

In no time, Failindië was running down the stairs, dressed and with her satchel in hand.

"We can go now, Avacauro. You will tell me about their symptoms on the way," she instructed.

Avacauro nodded and the two run out of the house. The front door slammed and everything got quiet. Only then Aranon noticed Mírimë standing on the threshold of the kitchen door.

"Bad dream, Mírimë?" he asked.

"Yes. Someone I know got seriously injured in it."

"Was it somehow connected to all that business around Horëamo, Finiorë and some others?"

"Yes. I'd like to think that the dream was just a result of being close by when some of the things happened, but ..."

"But what?"

"But I think that it might have been a warning and I don't know if I should tell something to the person the dream had concerned, or if I should just watch-"

Mírimë paused when she saw her father lift his hand. Aranon smiled at her and gave her a piece of advice:

"Miri, I think you should remember that in dreams and visions one can see things that _might_ come to pass. It is never certain they will happen and the attempt to avert them can _ensure_ they take place. So I advise you to watch and if one of your friends gets in trouble, help him or her if you feel you should."

"Thank you, father," said Mírimë gratefully and stood up, ready to return to her room. But Aranon didn't yet say all he wanted to say.

"One last thing, Miri. Should you get involved in some strange or potentially dangerous business, make sure there is someone to get you out of it. I'd hate to see you hurt."

"I will do that," answered Mírimë seriously, bade her father a good night and returned to bed. This time she fell asleep quickly and no other nightmares plagued her.

* * *

Next day, when Mírimë went to make herself breakfast, she found her parents already up and discusssing last nights' events.

"So you think it was an accident?" asked Aranon his wife.

"Yes, I think something in their food was bad and they didn't notice it, but Avacauro doesn't agree with me."

"Does he think someone wanted to hurt them on purpose?"

"He does. An elf named Mairacallo was one of the pair who got ill and Avacauro immediately connected it with Horëamo, but I find it hard to believe that the lord is as bad as this."

"You shouldn't forget Avacauro's story about Horëamo's past actions and the fact that the rumor about him being accused of slander was proven true. If he is indeed able to throw the responsibility for great loss of lives at an innocent man, then he could be capable of hurting another who is able to expose him as a liar."

Aranon and Failindië stopped talking when they noticed Mírimë. In silence she served herself some apple juice and bread with butter and honey. Then the conversation resumed, only this time it's topic were expectations for that day.

Mírimë was the first to leave the table. She told her parents she expected the day's lessons to be interesting, but at the end of them she could hardly remember what had been said, read, or written. Her Quenya teacher noticed her absent-mindedness and gave her some extra work. So in the early afternoon Mírimë could be found in the school's library, going through Master Elemmírë's poetry. As far as she could see, no other student was currently in the library, only a librarian was putting some books on a nearby shelf.

Then, raised voices could be heard from the corridor outside. Mírimë paled. This was too similar to her dream. She stood up and nearly run to the library's entrance. When she got there, the head librarian and Master Calimórë had already stopped shouting and the history teacher was walking towards the staircase. The librarian looked mad with anger, his fists were clenched and he ground his teeth. He looked ready to have a violent outburst.

However, before such a thing could happen, a breathless first-year student rushed into the corridor.

"Master Calimórë!" he called.

The teacher turned and gave the boy a questioning look. Nervously, the youngster relayed his message:

"There is a visitor waiting for you at the headmaster's office. He says he has some documents which must be given to you personally."

"Very well. Run back and tell the headmaster and the visitor I'm coming."

With that the boy ran off and Master Calimórë followed him at more sedate pace. The head librarian leaned on the wall and rubbed his forehead as if he was pondering a difficult problem or suffered a headache. Mírimë left him to it and returned to Elemmírë's poetry, relieved and happy that her nightmare had not come to pass.

She was now more focused on her work and finished it earlier than expected. She arrived home in happy mood, but it was somewhat dimmed when she saw the serious expression on her father's face. According to the document he held in his hand the date for the trial of Finiorë and the other two attackers was set and Aranons' family was to give testimony and Mírimë was wanted to testify against lord Horëamo in the matter of his slandering of Erdanon.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Finiorë's testimony

Mírimë nervously fidgeted in her seat. The trial of those three elves who attacked Lady Celebrían was in progress, and so far it looked as if Horëamo's grandson and his servant were trying to get the severest punishment possible. Neither of them seemed to regret his actions. King Ingwë looked disgusted with their behavior and prince Findaráto was angry. Lord Elrond's face turned into a cold, expressionless mask and he stared at the two culprits as if he was trying to read their minds. Mírimë was glad her testimony was over. She was sure she wouldn't utter a sound should she be questioned by the three nobles in their present mood.

The double door to the room opened and the last culprit, Finiorë, was escorted inside by two guards. The young _nér_ was almost unrecognizable. Instead of walking with confidence and head held high he dragged his feet and his shoulders were slumped. He was also paler and thinner than Mírimë remembered. Her classmate let the guards lead him to a chair in the middle of the room. He sat down when he was told to and hung his head. King Ingwë broke the silence.

"Finiorë, son of Failaquen, tell us how you came to be a part of the group who attacked Lady Celebrían and how did it occur to you to do such a thing."

Finiorë swallowed and slowly looked up. When he saw the expressions on the king's and prince Findaráto's face and met Lord Elrond's gaze, he seemed to shrink. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, trying to talk, but no sound could be heard.

"Speak," prompted the king.

The young _nér _forced himself to try again. Mírimë almost felt sorry for him.

"I have met Ruinayar, Lord Horëamo's grandson, at school. We started to spend our free time together and I was soon introduced to his servant, Verion. I suppose he should have kept his eye on us and prevent incidents similar to that with Lady Celebrían, but all he ever told us were stories about Moriquendi and their loose morals. Nor did he try to stop our frequent late night revels and it didn't occur to me or to my friend to cease, we have had very good time and not a care."

Here Finiorë chuckled in self-derision and continued his narrative:

"Then, almost every evening, as we were headed to one party or another, we noticed a female tree-hugger sitting at the fountain in the main square, then wandering off somewhere."

At the words "female tree-hugger" Elrond glared at Finiorë. The latter flinched and looked away. After a moment he cleared his throat and when no questions were asked, he continued to speak.

"One evening we started earlier than usual and when we came across the Sinda, we were drunk just enough to lose all inhibitions but not the ability to coordinate our movements. When he saw her, Ruinayar got the idea to try to have some fun. We were often told Moriquendi had loose morals and there was a pretty Moriquendë all alone. What could be better?"

Again, Finiorë used a derisive tone. It was clear to Mírimë that he thought about his actions and realized their possible results. Ruinayar had a disbelieving expression on his face and Verion seemed to be seething and perhaps slightly crazed. The latter's countenance sent shivers down her spine and she was extremely glad that the _nér_ was well guarded. She once again focused on Finiorë.

„We followed her when she went away from the square. She noticed us and started to run. We were congratulating ourselves when we realized she was running to an area where nobody would be outside at that hour. We went faster than her and caught her soon, but she fought us. I held my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet and Verion removed her loincloth. After that, she struggled even more and bit my hand. Before I had the chance to place it back on her mouth she screamed. Almost immediately a door banged and someone shouted at us to leave the _nís_ alone. I saw those two," he pointed at Avacauro and Mírimë's father, "run towards us. We let go and ran away, each to his own home."

Finiorë fell silent and Mírimë felt nauseous. She could clearly remember one of the trio waving a piece of white cloth and boasting of getting a souvenir.

When it was clear that Finiorë finished speaking, prince Findaráto added a question of his own:

"What did you do after you got home?"

"I took some herbs to clear my head. When I sobered, I realized what we were prevented from doing and the consequences for the _nís_ if we had followed through. I never intended to seriously injure anyone and when it became evident that my actions under the influence of drink could have cost a life, I panicked and my first thought was to run away as fast as I could. And I did it. I ran away from Valmar in fear, without any supplies. For a fortnight I ate what I came across. Then, the two travelers appeared and stopped for the night. I tried to take some of their food, but they caught me and brought me here. I tried to escape again, but little Miri here spoiled my plans. That is the end of my story."

King Ingwë motioned to the guards to lead Finiorë to the bench where Ruinayar and Verion were seated. The latter let out an angry hiss. The king, prince Findaráto, Lord Elrond and some of the royal advisors headed for an adjacent chamber to determine a punishment for the three attackers. Elrond was about to cross the threshold when Verion shouted:

"The wench got far less than she deserves for sleeping around with a half-bred freak!"

That sentence broke the elf-lord's self-control. In an instant he was in front of Verion, one hand firmly clasped around the Vanya's throat, the other fending off the guard who was attempting to stop him. Verion choked and began to turn blue. Ruinayar and Finiorë were frozen in shock and fear. Another guard joined the one who tried to get Elrond to let go of Verion's throat. Alerted by the commotion, prince Findaráto rushed in and together they managed to calm the elf-lord down and Findaráto escorted him outside. Verion attempted to catch his breath and sent a look of pure hatred at Elrond's back.


End file.
